Fetal Position
by Mrs Don Draper
Summary: Mad Men Kink Meme Prompt: Ted/Don, hurt/comfort; After the pitch in 6x13, Ted storms into Don's office, ready to scream bloody murder but is stopped short when he sees Don curled up in the fetal position.


The bastard had done it iagain/i. Blowing off meetings, taking days off, going behind his back on Sunkist. iAnd now this?/i The tragic story of an orphan boy in desperate want of love and chocolate; it was not the time nor the place to be going off script. Where had Don even gotten the idea for such a convoluted sob story?

Dawn stood up when he approached his door.

"Mr. Draper has asked that no one disturb him."

He hopes that she doesn't get in trouble when he decides to barge through the door anyway, slamming it behind him loudly enough to wake Don up from his position on the couch.

"Just what the hell—!?"

He stops short, however, when he sees the tear track streaming down his cheeks. Fresh tears flow even now. Even while he's being watched. All he does is curl up further into a ball, wrapped tightly around a pillow. He makes no sound other than the soft sobs that escape him when he can't quite breathe.

Paternal instincts take over quickly, and he crouches down to kneel at Don's side. He pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and hesitantly dabs the dew from his face. Don even closes his eyes so he can gently pat them dry as well. Ted sighs deeply. What was he going to do with this man? This poor, broken, brilliant man. He has to break the silence.

"So it was true then?"

Don nods and lets out a choking cough. Ted thumps him on the back until he quiets down again. He truly is like an infant. An infant dolled up in suit, tie, and briefcase.

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"Don, you should have—"

"Dick."

"Excuse me?" He's trying to be helpful and understanding here, but if Draper is going to mock him for it...

"My name is Dick. Call me Dick."

Oh. So there was more to his story than he originally thought. He gets the urge to smooth his hair down to soothe him, but he resists. He doesn't want to cross any more lines with Don, Dick, unless Dick is the one setting the boundaries.

In the intermittent silence of his indecisiveness, Draper begins to cry again, and Ted feels completely lost as to what to do. He decides to go for tried-and-true and pours Don a drink. He sees that his tremors are back again.

"Here. Sit up and drink this."

Don takes it and greedily swallows it down until it trickles down his chin. Ted uses his handkerchief to wipe that away too, watching Don watch him as he cleaned his chin and lips, fingers trailing softly on his jaw. Don grabs his hand and holds it against his cheek.

"I'm in pain, Ted. I'm empty inside, and the alcohol isn't filling it anymore."

"But Meghan...?"

"She's perfect. I thought her perfection would cure me or help me or fix me, but then I realized that I've just been tainting her innocence with my own pain and suffering."

Don has turned his head to kiss the hand that he's still holding, the one still clutching the kerchief. He tugs the bit of cloth away and begins leaving open kisses on his palm and wrist. Ted can't suppress a shiver.

"I like fucking," he explains, carefully undoing his cuffs to expose more skin to kiss. "I feel alive. I feel that other person's heartbeat. I see them smile. I see them laugh. I see their joy...I'm sorry I ruined Hershey. That was selfish. I'm selfish, and I'm sorry."

Don lets go of Ted's arm after he gets a good feel of his fluttering pulse. Don has awakened something in him, and he's not sure whether it's fatherly or not, but he knows he wants to take care of Don, Dick, even if it's just for this one moment. He can fill the void just once. He can do this.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asks.

There's no sense in beating around the bush. Don will either say yes or no; they both have little left to lose.

"Do you know how?"

Dick dons a rueful smile, half ashamed that he knows how anal sex works, the he knows what it's like to be filled. He lived at a whorehouse, after all...

Don gets the mechanics worked out: the undressing and the prepping and getting Ted hard enough to enter him. Ted's unsure of the idea, but eventually he's covering Don's body with his own the couch. Don curls up on his side again, and Ted pushes in slowly carefully, worrying over every grunt and grimace.

"It's good, Ted. I want it to hurt a little bit."

So Ted picks up the pace and tries to enjoy the tight sensations around his cock as he presses in and in and in. All of a sudden, Don let's out a tremendous gasp of pleasure, but possibly pain. Ted slows down to nothing to be sure.

"Dick?"

"Don't you dare stop. Not now, Ted. God, please."

Ted obeys and attempts not to think of the consequences they would face for being found out. If being inside Don will exercise his demons, he will help. He feels sorry for the man that it has to be this way. That it has to be fast and hard instead of slow and easy. Don's eyes are pinched shut as he lets out quiet moan after quiet moan of pleasure, heightening Ted's own. Don fists his cock faster and faster until he's outpacing the speed of Ted's thrusts, like he's looking for the release before the pleasure. This time, he gives in to temptation and runs his fingers through Don's ebony hair. Don presses into the touch like a cat, and it nearly breaks his heart.

"Dick, I'm close. I don't want to ruin this. What can I do?"

"You're fine," he pants. "You're doing everything right, Ted."

"I've gotta come, Draper."

"Do it then."

"Dick, you haven't—"

And fuck he's biting his lip and ipraying/i Draper comes before him. If he comes now, it'll be an hour before he can go again. Yet as difficult as Don is to work with, he couldn't bear to leave him like that, not in the state he's in. But he's about to burst and seriously embarrass himself. There's one thing he hasn't tried yet for fear of crossing a line, but maybe...

"Come on, Dick. Come on, son. Come for your father like a good boy. You're such a good, good boy."

He punctuates his last sentence with gentle kisses, and the next thing either of them knows, Don is going off like a firecracker. Ted sighs in relief as can finally empty himself into Don's, Dick's, warm body.

It's awkward when they redress. There's semen on Don's ass and thighs that Don wipes away with practiced nonchalance. Ted's handkerchief is an irredeemable wet mess that ends up in the trash can by Don's desk, a dirty reminder of their dirty deeds. When they go to part, they both know there is a very high likelihood that this is the last time they will ever see each other again.

"I hope you fall in love with California," Don says simply. It's a loaded statement that Ted doesn't much feel like unpacking right now, but he knows Don means it kindly.

"And I hope you find what you're looking for," replied Ted, donning his jacket.

When they shake hands this time, there is no doubt that either of them mean it.


End file.
